Unexpected
by cherenerds919
Summary: Sometimes even the worst of things can bring up some unexpected results. HGCW
1. Chapter 1

Here is a new story with a (hopefully) new idea and a (again, hopefully) fairly new pairing. We hope you all enjoy!

Disclaimer: We do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters created by the marvelous J.K. Rowling. In fact, anything you recognize, we don't own. Hopefully we own the plot...

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Prologue

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It's been two weeks since the death of my father at Death Eater hands. Even now, I can still remember what I should not have been there to see.

_The night was dark, now more so than any other night, but the heavy clouds made it seem so. No stars shone over my suburban home and the moon only occasionally peeked through. Still, for all purposes, the night was no different for me than any other. My mum was at the market buying groceries for the week, my dad was in his armchair with the London Times he had been unable to finish with his morning coffee, and I was up in my room trying to finish one of Professor Snape's over summer essays. Really, just another ordinary night._

_It did not stay ordinary for long._

_In my room as I was carefully measuring what I had written (27 inches, only 3 over his asked amount) I heard a loud thump in the sitting room. Thinking it to be Crookshanks hopping down from one of the book shelves (that cat really does need to lose some weight) I ignored it. When a louder thump followed the first I became suspicious. Did Crooks finally feel the need to exercise? I looked up and was surprised to see a contentedly purring ball of orange fluff sleeping on my pillow. What in Merlin...? Then, from downstairs I heard a pained yell that was quickly cut off. My heart leapt into my throat. Dad._

_I jumped from my desk, startling poor Crooks, and grabbed my wand. As I headed out my door and for the stairs, I kept a steady mantra running through my head. Please don't be Death Eaters, please don't be Death Eaters, please don't be..._

_I slowly went down the stairs, trying to guess who was in the sitting room with Dad by the shadows cast on the floor by the fire in the grate. It was impossible to tell anything other than the fact that there were a lot more of them than there was of me. I gripped my wand tighter, trying to decide whether to run in with wand blazing or wait until I could be sure of a safe entry. My logistics were interrupted, however, by a cold drawling voice._

"_My dear Mr. Granger," the voice said silkily. "As much as it pains me to actually stoop so low as to use a Crucio upon you, I must insist that you tell me your daughter's whereabouts. It is of great importance to the Dark Lord, you see." The last bit was added lightly, as though this should've pleased my father, knowing he would be helping Voldemort._

"_I--won't--tell you," I heard my father gasp out between pained breaths._

_The drawling man's voice was suddenly hard. "You'll tell me, you filthy Muggle, or you'll be experiencing pain beyond your imagination." My heart seemed to stop and my breathing hitched._

"_Hit me--with your--best--shot."_

"_As you wish, my dear Muggle." I could almost see the man bowing mockingly to my father. "Crucio."_

_The sounds of my father's cries of agony echoed through the empty house. I covered my ears in vain, hoping to not hear them. It was useless. They reverberated through my skull and I felt the tears in my eyes dripping through my lashes. I shook my head desperately, hoping for it to stop._

"_Finite Incantatem." I let out a whoosh of relief. "Now, where is she?" The voice was demanding._

"_I'll--n-never--tell--y-y-you." And I was proud to have so strong a man for my father._

"_Tell me, Muggle." Every trace of civility had vanished from the voice._

"_O-over--my--d-d-dead--b-body."_

_The voice chuckled. "What a delightful suggestion." I felt my eyes grow wide as I ran down the stairs, no longer thinking, just knowing I had to get into that room before--_

"_Avada Kedavra."_

_The flash of green light erupting from the sitting room was so bright and intense that I instinctively shielded my eyes. But when I heard the THUD of a body hitting the floor, I fell to my knees limply, my wand dangling from my nerveless fingers. Several POPs echoed out as the murderers apparated, but I barely registered them._

_I crawled numbly into the sitting room and cried out when I saw my father's lifeless body sprawled out over the floor, his glazed eyes staring at nothing, his mouth frozen in horror. I hurriedly rushed to him, cradling his head in my arms._

"_Daddy, oh Daddy, don't be dead," I sobbed as I shook him, desperate to wake him. "Don't be dead, please, don't be dead." And I stayed like that, crying and screaming and trying my hardest to wake him. "Wake up, Daddy, please?"_

_The hysterics gave way to emptiness as I simply held him, numb and disbelieving. I rocked back and forth hopelessly, my chest in pain and my breathing shallow._

_That's how my mother found me forty minutes later._

"_Hermione? Jason?" I heard the keys hit the table near the front door and her footsteps head into the kitchen. The unmistakable sound of paper bags could be heard as Mum set down the groceries. "Anybody home?"_

_I heard her footsteps come closer, but I did nothing save rock my father back and forth._

"_Hermione?" Her voice was just beside the door now. Two more steps and she'd be here. "Jason?"_

_Then the sudden silence. I did not have to look up to know she was there. I continued rocking, even as I heard Mum's breaths come in short gasps. Even as she screamed out a futile "Jason?" Even as she stumbled over to me and Dad. Even as she fell beside me with sobs to rival mine. Even as she took him from me to try and revive him herself. I just kept rocking, rocking..._

That was two weeks ago and my Dad is dead. And it's all my fault.

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	2. Chapter 2

Since that fateful night two weeks ago, my mother has not been the same. She has never exactly been what you could call a kind woman, but she has always been sensible. Now she is neither.

Dad was her reason for everything. Everything she ever did was for him. She became his partner in dentistry because Dad had a fascination with healthy teeth. She became a wife because Dad wanted his home to be as normal and perfect as could be expected of a well-to-do dentist. She had me because Dad had always wanted to take a stab at playing the father. She allowed me into Hogwarts because Dad thought it would be smashing to have a witch for a daughter. Now, her entire life and reason for being is gone and she is left with a profession she never cared for, a ring that proclaimed her a widow, and a witch in place of the daughter she never wanted.

I became the blame for her unhappiness. Me, Hermione, a know-it-all girl with imperfect teeth and knowledge for things far from ordinary. "It's your fault" she says every morning she wakes up to a cold bed and an empty chair at the table. "If you weren't a witch, he'd never have been murdered" she says as I try to make her comfortable, as I try to please her with any housekeeping abilities I have. "If you were never born, he'd still be alive" she says as she looks at me through red-rimmed eyes.

And she is right. If I had not gotten my Hogwarts letter that so unnerved her, if I had never made friends with the most targeted and dangerous boy in England, if I had never come home with the news that a war was starting in my world and that all of us were in danger, he would be fine. I do not blame her.

A week after his death, Mum started rules. Strange, outlandish rules that kept me from being happy but made her feel safe in a world full of unforeseen dangers. I was no longer allowed any contact with any part of my world. No owls to any of my friends, no over vacation homework, no trips to Diagon Alley. The worst of it, no return to Hogwarts come September 1st. I begged and I pleaded, but her word did not budge. I was to remain at home and hope to salvage what little bit of normalcy we had left to us.

For the rest of the summer, if not longer, I was to remain inside the house. It was to be my duty to clean it and keep it as orderly as possible as Mum tried to find a new routine in her life that did not include my father.

For two weeks, we kept the shambles of our home and family as together as possible. I would do all I could to make her appreciate me; look at me with more than blame and hatred in her eyes. It never worked. Especially on one fateful day when I was owled by my friends.

Apparently Harry was at the Burrow and he and Ron had been waiting for me to show up for a long time and finally got tired of waiting. They sent a letter asking for me to come over with Pig. If they had sent Errol, I might have been able to hide it from Mum. He's so quiet, even if he does manage to knock over a vase or two upon landing. Pig, on the other hand, is at his best a complete nuisance. He comes in through a window and flies circles about the room and hoots his fool head off. This is not the best sort of owl to try hiding from one's angry Mum.

So, while I was trying to shush the hyperactive owl, Mum banged into the upstairs guest room. Her eyes narrowed immediately at the sight of the miniature hooting owl in my arms and there was no point in my trying to hide him.

"What is that?"

I cowered beneath her gaze, a very un-Hermione-like move. "An owl, Mum."

"An owl?"

"Yes, Mum."

Her eyes narrowed even further and her lips nearly disappeared in a thin line. "The sort that you send letters with. Letters to your freaky friends?"

"Yes, Mum." My voice was barely a whisper.

She glared at the now quiet Pig. Her eyes took in his miniscule frame, his eyes wide with animalistic curiosity, and the scrap of parchment fastened tightly to his little leg. Before I could protest, she had snatched it and was opening it.

" 'Hermione'," she read, " 'Where've you been? We've been waiting for you for absolute ages. You should've been here three days ago. You said you would. Mum's on the verge of sending Lupin and Tonks to your house and just picking you up and bringing you back here. Anyway, if you don't reply soon, me and Harry'll do it ourselves. So, just write back and let us know what's up, all right? Love, Ron.'"

She looked at me over the edge of the parchment. "Have you been writing them, Hermione." Her voice was shrewd and demanding.

"No, Mum." It was the truth. I'd been to busy trying to make her happy to have time for anything else.

"I will not have you lie to me, Hermione. Have you been writing to them?"

"No, Mum. I haven't, I swear. I've been doing too mu--"

She cut me off. "You swear. Just like you swear that there was nothing you could do to save Jason? You, a witch, who can do anything with a simple wave of your magic stick?"

"Mum," I pleaded. "I couldn't do anything. It was an Unforgivable, a Killing Curse. It can't be reversed. Believe me, if I could I would've done something, but I couldn't!"

For a moment, her face crumpled and her shoulders slumped. I thought she might just believe me. But then, her resolve returned and her steeliness was back in full force. She was just as stubborn as I was. "Quit lying to me, Hermione," her voice was like ice. "You know you could have saved him. It's on your conscience, his death, no one else's." I felt the truth in her words and I seemed to fold in on myself. "I don't want to look at you, Hermione. Go. To your room. Stay until I call you."

I ran from the room, clutching Pig to me like a teddy bear. Once in my room, I crumbled onto the floor, hiccoughing from suppressed sobs. When I looked up, I saw the owl my dad had bought for me at the end of sixth year; the normal brown barn owl that I had planned to always use to write him. Now I did not have the chance. And I knew then, as I looked into her frank eyes, that I had to leave. I could not deny myself the world that I now belonged to. I stood and placed Pig in the cage with her and started to gather together all the things I could not bear to part with.

As I began packing my possessions into my trunk, I thought of where to run. There was always the Burrow, of course. But at the Burrow there was Molly. And while she would be glad to have me, she would lecture me constantly on running away. I wouldn't be able to handle that. I could go to Hogwarts, I supposed, but if they wouldn't let orphans stay there over the summer, why would they let me when I still had a home. Or I could run to Grimmauld Place. Though technically no longer Headquarters, it did belong to Harry and I was pretty sure that Remus was still an occasional resident. Yes, I could stand Grimmauld Place. And Remus would understand why I had to leave. At least, he would once I explained.

Once my trunk was filled, I ran to my desk and pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen. Hardly wizarding parchment and quill, but they were already packed and the less time I took the better. I hastily wrote a scribbled message to Harry and Ron about where I would be and sent Pig off to the Burrow.

With my wand and a few spells, I charmed my trunk to the size of a block and stuck it in my pocket and managed to quiet my footsteps. I stepped out of my room and carefully made my way, softly calling Crookshanks to follow. He merely opened an eye wearily and went back to sleep. Grumbling, I went back and grabbed him, holding him awkwardly in front of me. Just as I reached the head of the stairs, an idea struck me. As much as my mom didn't care for me right now, her maternal instincts would kick in eventually whether she wanted them to or not. I returned to my room and hastily scribbled out a note that told her I was going to be gone for the rest of the summer and the school year and that I would owl her as often as possible. Now satisfied that she shouldn't be too upset, I made my way all the way out of the house.

With a last look at my childhood home, I turned on the spot carefully and apparated to Grimmauld Place.

The front of the building looked just as it always did, dank and dark and dirty. But by the guttering light flickering out of a window on the second story, I knew that someone was inside. Gathering what little courage and resolve I had left in me I walked to the front door and carefully knocked upon it. The familiar screeching of Mrs. Black reached my ears and I knew it wouldn't be long before the door was opened.

I shuffled uncomfortably as I heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and stopping before the door. It opened and I was met with a look of absolute shock. I smiled faintly at the tired handsome face of my former Professor.

"Hello, Remus. May I come in?"

With a stunned shake of his head, he held the door open wider and admitted me in.


	3. Chapter 3

Once I was through the door, that's when I think reality hit Remus. He stopped suddenly and stared at me.

"Hermione!" he cried. I faced him. "Wh-what're you doing here? Does your mum know you're here?" He looked about himself in bewilderment. "And look at this place! Dusty and dirty and not fit for company!"

I laughed softly. "This place is always dusty and dirty and not fit for company."

He glared at me jokingly. "Be that as it may, you could have at least told me you were coming. I could've attempted to tidy up the place." He slapped his hand against a tapestry that erupted into dust. "I could've at least made the place a bit less hazardous to one's health," he managed to choke out through his coughing.

He turned to me once more. "Besides, you haven't been writing to anyone. Not responding to either Ron or Harry's owls. We've been worried about you, especially due to--er, recent events. And here you are, on my doorstep or, rather, in my foyer, and you haven't told anybody anything--and, well, to say the least, I'm a bit confused."

Again, I laughed, this time with him following suit, and turned to look at him, sobering him instantly just with the sadness in my eyes. "Remus? Might we talk in the study about this?"

"Of course." And he led me there.

Once inside, when I was sure the door was closed and no unwelcome ears should hear me, I turned to face my former professor. Quicker than he could react, I had raced to him and held him to me, sobbing into his chest. Surprised, to say the least, he didn't do anything at first. Then, his compassionate side taking over, he wrapped his arms about me in a friendly embrace.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" His voice was kind and that only served to fuel my tears rather than slow them. Still, little by little, I managed to get my story out. Everything about my father's death and how it was me they wanted, then the part about my mother and her not understanding how I could do nothing, and her unfair punishments, and her refusal for me to have anything to do with my world, the wizarding world, and again how it all happened under a shroud of grief for my father I could not save.

And Remus, his kindness and caring coming through, comforted me. "Shhhh, Hermione, it's not your fault. You're a witch, yes, but not even the greatest witch or wizard would have been able to save your father after the Killing Curse. And if your mother could be so cruel as to tell you that it was your fault, then she's not worth it. If she can't understand how wonderful you truly are, then she doesn't deserve you."

I pulled myself from him, my tears drying and cracking as I gave him a shaky smile. His eyes were kind, as was his smile, but it had the feel of being forced and I could see in his face and anger that he wasn't willing to bear full force before me. Anger against my mother. And I think, if I hadn't been so young and he so old, I could've fallen in love with him that very moment. But, as it was, I was simply grateful and felt a swell of affection for this man who took my pain before his own.

"Here now," he began gruffly, suddenly embarrassed by the warm moment between us. "You are tired and it is best if you were in bed." He helped me up and led me through the dingy halls and stairwells of Grimmauld Place until at last we reached the room I had shared with Ginny in some seemingly long ago time.

I made to go in before suddenly turning around. "Good night, Remus," I said warmly and was very glad to hear him reply in the same tone. "Good night, Hermione."

The next day dawned bright and I woke feeling renewed and fresh. As I met with Remus in the kitchen for breakfast, I told him of my plans. "Today I'm going to Diagon Alley for my school things, I think. And maybe some owl treats for Flora. I won't be long, I promise."

He looked at me uncertainly. "Are you sure you should go alone? Especially with the war proceeding as it is, it's extremely dangerous. Besides, there's a book I am in need of."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "No need to ask, Remus. But I'm not ready to leave just yet. I have to shower and change. Not to mention I should write a letter to Ron and Harry first, to tell them not to worry. I won't be a minute," I promised as I dashed back up the stairs.

Within the half hour Hermione was once again headed down the stairs, though now clothed in denim trousers and a purple and blue striped sweater beneath her robes. As I reached the bottom of the steps, I saw Remus below waiting for me.

We stepped outside into the dingy yard of Grimmauld Place and Remus stuck out his wand hand for the Knight Bus. Once we were safely seated, I turned to him with the hopes of speaking with him about something that had been plaguing me.

"Remus, you won't tell Mrs. Weasley about what I told you last night, will you?"

He turned to me with soft eyes. "Do you not want me to, Hermione?"

I stumbled. "Well, no. I mean, I'd love to have Mrs. Weasley know, I mean, she is like a mother to me anyway, you know. But if Ron and Harry were to find out, I don't know what would happen. They're already going to walk on eggshells around me because of dad; I don't want them to be even more uncertain and uncomfortable than they need to be. It'd be better just to keep things the way they are than to jeopardize them further."

"I understand, Hermione, but you must tell them eventually. They deserve to know."

I sighed. "I know, I know. I'll tell them when I'm ready. Besides, they don't need to know just yet, do they? There'll be plenty of time for that later."

He just shook his head at me. "Whatever you say, Hermione."

We spent the rest of the bus ride in silence, but once we reached Diagon Alley, we were friends once again. We spent the day looking at everything and nothing, buying far too many books and quills and having a lovely day. And as we were headed home on the Knight Bus at an ungodly hour of night, I felt we had reached an understanding between us. And as I watched him dozing and dropping his chin to his chest, I felt a kinship to him that I hadn't felt before. And as I looked at him, I knew we would be close for as long as we had need each other. Much in the way a daughter is close with her father.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks have passed since I first intruded upon Remus' quiet life at Grimmauld Place. Much of my time was spent in his company, either studying or talking companionably. He was a kindred spirit, Remus, and I was glad that I had him to rely on in any of my hours of need. And he seemed to feel the same towards me. While I confided in him of my mother's sudden breakdown and how it was affecting me and my split lives, he entrusted me with his own secrets. How he really did fancy Tonks, though he was scared for her, and how he adored all of the interesting and far from natural colors she managed to think into her hair.

Also, during those couple weeks, I managed to send letters off to both Harry and Ron, telling them not to worry about me and that I would see them when school began for the new term, only a few days away. And also, I sent a letter to my mum.

I waited for what seemed eternities for her to reply, hoping and fearing that she would. Then, one morning, as I looked up from my cereal that I was snacking on one early afternoon, I saw Flora waiting patiently outside the window. Sighing deeply, I stood and let her in, careful not to just rip the letter from the poor bird's leg.

With an emotion akin to absolute terror, I unrolled the parchment and prepared myself for the worst. I was not disappointed.

_Hermione,_

_We're simply too different to be a family. I think it is in both of our best interests that we no longer communicate. I fear you and all of your unnatural powers. I think I can be happy by myself._

I dropped the letter from my suddenly numb fingers. Tears I hadn't realized were sitting in my eyes fell to my cheeks and a shocked despairing sound managed to escape my throat before I could stop it. I quickly covered my mouth with my hands and bit my tongue in an effort to remain calm. But it was too late for that.

Remus was in the room momentarily, his wand at the ready. When he saw me alone and the piece of parchment on the floor at my feet, he understood that it was not some Death Eater come to kidnap me and he put his wand back within his inner cloak pocket. He stepped forward and, with only a moment of hesitation, wrapped me in his arms.

"What happened?" he asked, after my tears had slowed. I nearly began sobbing again as I pointed to the letter on the floor. Hesitantly, he let go of me and reached for the parchment. I watched as his eyes scanned the writing and as his eyes grew narrower. He crumpled the parchment angrily and threw it into the cold fireplace.

"Your mother is a spiteful wench," he muttered. I started crying again, knowing he was right but wishing that he was wrong. He sighed and rubbed his square hand over his weary face. He turned and stared at me. "I know what you're going through," he whispered.

I stood abruptly, anger erupting from someplace far within me. "How could you? How could you possibly know what it's like for your mother to hate you? To _fear_ you?"

He stared me down and laughed bitterly. "Have you forgotten that I'm a werewolf, Hermione?" I blushed as he continued. "My mother has hated and feared me since I was a child, blaming me just as your mother blames you." He sat heavily in the chair beside him. "Did I ever tell you how I was bit, Hermione?" I shook my head. "I was with my father. I was small, just a child, and we were talking a walk in the woods around my house. And Fenrir Grayback, as you may remember, was a little less than fond of my father. He was waiting for us, ready for our step to take us past him, glad that his opportunity had come on a full moon. He attacked, mortally wounding my father and cursing me. He died soon after. And my mother never recovered from the shock." He sighed and looked even more exhausted than I could ever remember seeing him before.

"What happened...after that?" I asked, not wanting to pry but too curious not to.

"She was like your mother, too in love with her husband to do anything but whatever he wanted. She was ambitious and had dreams, but she met Dad and was willing to give all of it up for him and she did. Then, only a scant few years later, here she's left a widow with a werewolf son. She hated me and I found no relief from her and her demands until I met Sirius, James and Peter. Then I could finally be happy, to some extent." He let out a sigh which eventually turned into a laugh. "And people wonder why I have a hard time with relationships." I smiled shakily.

There was a long silence in the room that only ended when Remus stood and set his hand on my shoulder. "Hermione, give up on her. Just for now. She doesn't want you and she's not worth your pain. Can you promise me that? Can you promise to forget about her, just for a little while?"

I looked up at him, uncertain whether I could make that promise. But when I saw the determination and caring in his eyes, I knew I had my answer. "All right, Remus. I promise."

He smiled softly and left the room.

After he shut the door, I didn't move for a moment. It was a hard predicament, an uncertain ending to the relationship with the woman I had thought loved me. It was too abrupt. My eyes drifted to the fireplace, where the crumpled letter from my mother, possibly the last, still sat on the ashes of yesterday's fire. For a moment, I felt the urge to set it alight immediately, but then my resolve crumpled. Instead, I reached into the ashes and pulled the parchment to me, carefully smoothing out the wrinkles.

I held the letter close to my chest and moved to one of the chairs. I sat down and let out a sigh. So I wasn't exactly keeping my promise to Remus, so what? I folded the letter and put it into my pocket. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.


	5. Chapter 5

Finally, the day arrived in which I was to return to Hogwarts. I was nervous, hesitant, and every other uncertain word one could find in the dictionary. By going to Hogwarts, I would be forever turning my back on my mother, fully embracing everything she hated about me. Up until this moment, I always had the choice to return, to take my place in the Granger family. Now, though, was my last chance. And it was harder than I realized to put it behind me. So, when Remus helped me levitate my trunk to the street curb, I was having a hard time forcing one foot to follow the other.

"Come on, Hermione," he whispered to me, as I stood motionless at the door of Grimmauld Place. "Just a quick call to the Knight Bus and you'll be at Platform 9 ¾ in no time."

I gave him a smile and, realizing that he cared for me just as much and more as Mum did or ever would, found my feet and stepped out into the lawn. Reaching him, I gave him a quick hug.

"I'll write you," I promised, trying to fight back tears. "I'll tell you everything."

"Even all of the things that Harry and Ron will no doubt not want you to tell me?"

I laughed and released him. "Even the things Ron and Harry don't want me to tell you."

With one more minute of companionable silence, I took my wand from my pocket and held it aloft. "Bye, Remus," I said as the garishly purple Knight Bus appeared and the porter lifted my trunk into the bus.

"Bye, Hermione," he called back as I climbed aboard. And then, with one quick wave before the bus took off, he was gone.

Sighing, I settled into my patched and overstuffed chair, willing my rolling stomach to settle. The bus ride was short, as always, but the after effects were far more long lasting. So, even after I had made my way onto the platform, all belongings in tow, I was still feeling rather green around the gills. Still, the sight of the bright red engine and the crowd of laughing and energetic students were nearly enough to rid my head of all thoughts of nausea.

As I stood amidst the throng of children and their parents, I could hardly contain my excitement. Another school year! There was no joy as sweet as that! I stood on tiptoe anxiously, hoping to spot my friends. Then, almost as if by cue, I could see them. A huge group of red heads, all varying in size and age, with one very out of place black-haired boy. Laughing in delight, I levitated my trunk and ordered it to follow as I dashed through the various families to make my way to them. As an afterthought, that turned out not to be the greatest idea because by the time I'd reached them, I'd knocked over a good score of people with my heavy belongings.

"Sorry!" I called behind me, half truly repentant and half giggling. I turned to the Weasleys and Harry, a sheepish grin on my face. "Hi, you guys."

Immediately, I was wrapped in an innumerable amount of arms in one giant embrace. I laughed in delight as they released me and I let my eyes wander over and re-familiarize with the people I had not seen in so long: Bill, Charlie, and Percy were gone of course at their respective homes and jobs, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, Ginny, Harry, and, of course, Ron were there. The one boy I had been in love with since my first year and also the one boy I somehow knew I may never get.

The goodbyes were quick as the train's departure time was nearly at hand. An empty compartment was fairly easy to find, as the amount of children seemed to diminish each year as the threat of Voldemort grew. We settled in, Harry, Ron, Ginny and I, and were relatively soon joined by Luna and Neville. The trip was long, but pleasant on all accounts. We chatted and laughed and acted like a normal group of teenagers. And not one person brought up my family's problems, something I was infinitely grateful for.

Then, later that evening, as our thestral-driven carriage stopped to let us out at the door to Hogwarts, a rather frantic looking Susan Bones rushed out to meet us. She was as thin and rather frail looking as always, her childish braids and large glasses making her appear even smaller than she was. I wasn't tall at only 160 centimeters, but she was lucky if she reached 150. "Hermione!" she gasped as she reached us.

"Hello, Susan," I answered pleasantly. "How was your summer?"

She stopped, momentarily caught off guard. "Er, fine..." She quickly shook her head to clear it. "Hermione, Professor McGonagall sent me to fetch you. She says it's urgent."

I turned to my friends in confusion, but simply waved at them, saying I'd see them at the feast in a moment before I followed Susan into the castle.

"What does she want with me, Susan?" I asked her.

The girl shrugged. "She didn't tell me, just sent me to get you since I happened to be the first out of the first carriage to arrive. Just be glad it wasn't Draco Malfoy or some other Slytherin that she sent."

I smiled at her absently, but my mind was in turmoil. Had the Death Eaters come for my mother? Had she been hurt, or killed, or worse, had she gone mad in the same manner as Neville's parents? As I fretted, my steps grew quicker and Susan had to jog just to keep up on her very short legs.

Before I had time to sort out my thoughts, we had reached Professor McGonagall's door. I knocked smartly and was admitted with the Professor's curt "Enter!" I opened the door and was surprised to see two of the last people on earth I had expected to see within.

"Remus!" I cried as I flung myself into his arms. "What're you doing here?" He laughed shortly, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "And Charlie Weasley! I thought you were in Romania. With the dragons." He didn't even bother with a smile. My joviality diminished significantly as I saw the forlorn look on all three of the office's occupants' faces. "What's the matter?"

Professor McGonagall turned to the very curious Susan who still stood in the doorframe, as still and inconspicuous as a mouse. "Thank you, Miss Bones," she said gruffly. "You may return to the feast now." With a disappointed look, the girl dashed off and closed the door behind her.

I watched the closed door for a moment before meeting my professor's eyes. "Professor, what's the matter?" I repeated.

She sighed and sat behind her desk. "If you would take a seat, Miss Granger." I complied, as did Charlie and Remus, as I anxiously waited for whatever it was she had to say.

"Miss Granger," she continued, "I fear that what I must say is not easy..."

My heart constricted within my chest. "It's my mother, isn't it?" I interrupted. "They found her, didn't they, the Death Eaters? And she's dead now, isn't she?" The tears that had come so quickly began to fall. "And I never even got the chance to say anything. Is she really dead, Professor?"

McGonagall seemed stunned at my sudden disintegration into being an emotional, well, girl, and didn't know what to say for a moment. "Miss Granger," she began eventually. "Your mother is perfectly fine. It's you that we're worried about."

"Me? But, Professor, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

McGonagall sighed. "For the moment, yes. But your safety is in danger. You've become a target."

I stared at her. "Me? A target? Are you sure?" I turned to both Remus and Charlie for confirmation, but neither would look at me.

"Miss Granger, do you know why those Death Eaters came to your house that evening your father died?"

I stared at her in disbelief that she should bring up such a painful subject. "Of course I do, Professor. They wanted to get to Harry through me. Bring down the smart one in order to make him more vulnerable. It was all to hurt Harry, wasn't it?"

Professor McGonagall folded her hands before her face in a way that was eerily similar to Professor Dumbledore. "In a way, yes, you're right, Miss Granger. But that's not _the_ reason they went after you."

"Wh-what're you talking about?"

"They went after you to hurt Mr. Weasley."

I turned to Charlie, staring at him in disbelief before turning back to McGonagall. "Charlie? How's he involved in this?"

McGonagall's hands made their way to her face as she sighed in exasperation. "Not this Mr. Weasley, _your_ Mr. Weasley." I stared at her blankly. "Ron," she clarified. "They went after you to hurt Ron."

"I don't understand..."

"They wanted to hurt Ron, so they made their way to _your_ house, as it had fewer wards, and--"

"Enough!" Remus cried, as he came to his feet. "She knows the details of that particular train of thought." He turned to me, falling to his knees and taking my hands in his. "Hermione, what Minerva is trying to say is that we, the Order, think it would be best if you were to go into hiding."

"Hiding?"

"Yes. Just until this all blows over. Then you can come back. You see, Hogwarts isn't as safe as it once was and it would be best if we could get you away from Ron and Harry."

"But, Remus, they need me. How're they expected to--"

"Hermione, they'll be fine. You, however, may not, unless we can get you out of here soon."

McGonagall took over for Remus. "Hermione, we've secured a safe house for you to hide away in, along with a protector." She held her hand up to stop my indignant tirade proclaiming my ability to take care of myself. "Humor us, Miss Granger, in this. Besides, he'll take good care of you and keep you company. In fact, he ought to take you away as soon as possible. Within the next fifteen minutes if he can."

I turned to Remus. "You're my protector, then? Well, that's all right, I guess. I mean, at least I can--"

"No, Hermione," he said. "Not me. Charlie."

I stared at the elder Weasley brother in uncertainty, before I finally steeled myself towards the fact that I had no choice. "Well, I suppose we ought to go soon. I'll just go get my things." I made for the door, but Charlie's hand stopped me.

"No time for that, I'm afraid," he whispered in his gruff voice. We'll be leaving by portkey immediately. Your things will be sent on later."

"Oh," I muttered in a small voice, so as to hide my despair.

Professor McGonagall stood and came to touch my shoulder. "Come along, then, Miss Granger, and we'll send you off."

I looked up and nodded, saddened by the fact that I would not have the chance to say goodbye and I may never be able to see any of my friends again. But worst of all, I may not have been able to ever tell Ron how I felt or find out if he felt the same about me.


	6. Chapter 6

"Here you are," McGonagall told me gruffly as she handed me a strange spidery object, one I'd never encountered before in all of my studies. "It's a portkey, in a sense," she continued. I took it gingerly, looking at the object.

It was almost like a snow globe, or so the small glass orb in the middle suggested. But the thin metal legs that stretched out from it reminded me more of a strange sort of syringe. It was of wizard-make, as no Muggle object could balance so heavy a glass on such thin legs, and it was obviously ancient. If I squinted, I could see a small dot amidst a green backdrop within the glass. Curious. "What is it, Professor?" I questioned quietly.

She glanced quickly at Remus, almost as though silently asking him whether or not she should tell. He nodded slightly. "It's where you're hiding, Miss Granger," she answered. My head shot up.

"Pardon?"

She sighed and took the object back. "See that small speck in the glass?" She pointed to figure I'd noticed earlier. I nodded. "That's a house. Small, of course, but it will do." I stared at her.

"You expect me _and _Charlie to fit in that?"

She looked at me over the rims of her glasses. "What are you talking about?" I stared at her as though she'd gone insane when she handed the figurine back to me, but I took it nonetheless.

Remus turned to her with a slight smile. "She thinks you mean to put them in the glass, Minerva."

She snorted most indelicately. "Now, really, of all the childish things. I'm not putting you _in_ the glass; it's my little way to keep an eye on you. This shows the house and the surrounding area. The house is approximately two miles from a small Muggle town. The house has a charm on it and the Muggles forget it's there until someone takes up residence there."

She rolled up her sleeves. "Now, if you're ready?" It was more command than request, but I couldn't help but question her one last time.

"How is _this_ hiding? What are you going to do with us once we're there? What if someone finds this, they'd know where to find us, wouldn't they? What are you going to do with it? Throw it in the lake?"

I saw Charlie's mouth twitch slightly out the corner of my eye. McGonagall was caught off guard, however, and spluttered. "Well, I--Miss Granger! Of course not!"

"Well," I continued, "then where in Merlin's name are you going to put it?"

She shot a look at Remus that suggested my sudden forgetfulness of respect was somehow his fault. He shrugged sheepishly. Sighing, she stepped to one of the many cupboards that were surrounding the meeting area of the office. She opened one and pulled out a fancy Sneak-o-scope and a slightly tinkling instrument that looked like it had something to do with Astronomy. A delicate container that was similar to the legs of the object that was to be my home was neatly hidden behind them. "There," she said shortly. "You'll be in my office always, hidden behind these things. Does that satisfy your curiosity, Miss Granger?"

I smiled at her. "Very much so, Professor. Thank you."

"Are we ready now, then?"

"Yes." I set the object on her desk and took a better hold it, leaving room for the hands of Charlie, Remus and Professor McGonagall. With a complicated wave of her wand and a muttered incantation that I couldn't quite catch, I felt the familiar sensation of a hook behind my navel and I was suddenly falling head first into a grassy hill.

Charlie landed just as unceremoniously beside me with a groan. Remus and McGonagall, being the more experienced of us, landed gracefully on their feet, only mussing up McGonagall's stern hair-knot slightly.

"Now, if you'll be so kind as to follow me, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley." And she marched off in one direction. Hurrying to stand, I had to jog to catch up. Before long, we had reached the speck I had seen in the glass. Only now, it was quite a bit larger and clearly a house.

It was old and small, by housing standards, and more suited to one person or two married than a pair of barely acquainted people thrown together by chance, but I supposed that it was better than one of Mr. Weasley's tents. At least this had a door that could close completely and a small patch of weedy garden outside the doorstep.

McGonagall walked up the step and opened the door carefully, as though she expected it to break in her hands. It creaked loudly and a cloud of dust flew from the hinges. She coughed delicately and stepped in. The rest of us followed quietly.

The inside was no less ancient or small than the outside, if anything it was even more so. The entire thing was one room for living and dining with a small door leading into what I assumed to be the bathroom and a pull-down staircase up into what must have been an attic serving as a bedroom. The furniture was shabby and moth eaten, but no worse than what might be find in a dodgy camp in some forgotten town. The couch was sagging quite a bit in the middle, but the blanket folded neatly over the back looked like one of Mrs. Weasley's and it was clean and bright, contrasting with the dark wood and faded rug in front of the extremely sooty fire place. The dishes in the kitchen were clean, at least, and stacked neatly in an open cupboard beside what looked like a well stocked food shelf. The sink was slightly dirty, with a ring around the edges and I couldn't bear to think what the bathroom must look like. All in all, it was dusty and a little musty-smelling, but there was nothing a few well placed "Scourgify"s couldn't fix.

"The bathroom's just through there," McGonagall said, pointing to the small door. "And the bedroom's up the steps. Only one bed, I'm afraid, so one of you will have to kip on the sofa. The food shelves will not restock themselves, so you'll have to be sparing. One of the Order will come by occasionally to send you another supply, but we can only come rarely. The water will not run out and there isn't any electricity or many candles, so you'll have to be sparing with them. All in all, it will be slightly cramped, but ought to do quite nicely."

I looked around. "When was this last used?"

"Perhaps seventy years ago or so. It's only used in the direst of emergencies. But we have taken the liberty of bringing some things you might like around."

"And we cleaned it up a bit, too," Remus put in. "Obviously, my cleaning spells need a bit of work, but it _is_ better than it was earlier."

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall turned to Charlie and me. "There's one more thing I need to show you." She stepped toward the fire place and reached to take a corner of the mantle. "Mr. Weasley, if you would help me lift this?" He obliged and the mantle was soon off the fireplace, opening a secret door that had a chest hidden behind it. She turned to us. "As you can see, there's a trunk back here, so I would suggest that, unless you wish to burn it, you not use the fireplace."

McGonagall lifted the lid and said a quick Lumos and started down the stairs that her wand illuminated within the space of the trunk. "If you'll follow me," she called from a few steps down. Smiling, Charlie let me go first, then Remus and then himself.

I could see little as I walked down the surprisingly long staircase. At the bottom, I could see the little circle of light around McGonagall's wand, but nothing else was visible. Suddenly, with a swish of her wand, the place was lit by dozens of candles and I could not suppress my gasp.

It was a workshop; a huge workshop that had space for a good sized library, a potions table, various tools to use for Arithmancy, DADA and Herbology. There was a large table set in the middle meant for various projects and a shelf completely dedicated to quills, ink bottles and parchment. I had difficulty harnessing my excitement.

"This is for you to do any work you might wish or that we send you to do, not to mention your lessons, Miss Granger. Charlie will tutor you and I expect you to keep up with your classmates." I nodded vigorously, still surprised at the hidden basement that was bigger than the entire house.

She headed for the steps again. "Let's go back up now, please." And we all followed her obediently.

Once at the top, she and Remus headed for the door, but stopped just before exiting and turned to face us. "Oh, I almost forgot." She reached into one of her robe's pockets and pulled out a pair of plain silver rings. She took my hand and placed it on my left ring finger, repeating the action on Charlie.

"You are to wear these rings at all times," she ordered sternly. "They allow the Order to keep an eye on you and make sure that you remain safe and undetected. If you choose to travel into the town, remember that it is Muggle and do not use magic. While there, go under the pretense of a young married couple just starting out. That ought to keep away any overly curious neighbors." I glanced at Charlie and blushed. He merely grinned back cheekily. "And the Order will be sending you some missives from time to time, usually about clues we have towards the hiding place of Lucius Malfoy, or any of his activities. We'd be quite pleased if you would put forth your efforts into those subjects."

"And don't open the door unless you're absolutely sure of who's on the other side," Remus added in seriously. "We'll send you a few passwords to know who's there in a few days, after the next meeting." We nodded.

Suddenly, in a great show of feeling, Professor McGonagall turned to us and hugged us tightly. I stared at Charlie over her shoulder, and almost laughed to see a similar expression on his face. She released us sniffling and stepped out the door quickly so as not to be spotted crying.

Remus then took me in his arms. "Be brave," he whispered in my ear. "I'll be by soon to see you." He released me and I smiled as bravely as I could at him. Then, with a manly wave to Charlie, he left. I could hear the distinct_ pop_ of apparition as he and McGonagall departed. We were alone.

I looked at Charlie nervously. "So, here we are," I said with a slight laugh.

"Yeah," he responded. There was an awkward silence. I looked around uncomfortably, my eyes resting on the food shelf. I suddenly realized I had not eaten since the snack trolley had passed my compartment on the train and I was incredibly hungry. 

"How's about something to eat," I called over my shoulder to him as I made a beeline for the food.

"Sure," he responded easily, glad to have something to say other than awkward small talk.

So we ate a pair of sandwiches while talking about everything and nothing. Mostly about Hogwarts and what I wanted him to teach me while we were stuck at the cabin in hiding.

By the time we'd cleared the plates, washed them, and stacked them back on the pile, it was 9:23, according to Charlie's watch.

He yawned widely. "I think it's about time I go to bed, how about you?"

And I suddenly remembered that there was only one bed. I glanced at him nervously. He didn't expect us to share, did he? Without a second glance at me, he stepped out of the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his head at the same time. I stared at his scarred and freckled back with surprise and then immediately looked away. He wasn't going to strip anymore of his clothes off, was he? When I looked back up, a minute later, he was staring at me strangely, clad in only his dragon print boxers. I felt the heat rise up my neck.

"Aren't you going to bed, Hermione?" he asked.

I stuttered most unbecomingly and found I did not have any words to answer him with. "Well, I--that is-- you see..." I trailed off uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot. I looked up at the pull down staircase. A sense of realization seemed to wash over him.

"Out of your reach, isn't it?"

"What?" I watched in horror as he came closer, stopping right beside me. His chest, toned and covered with healed burns from his extensive work with dragons was at eye level. It was hard to force my eyes to meet his when met with such an outrageous display.

He looked at me as though I'd gone slightly mad in the last minute. "The staircase," he clarified. "Out of your reach, yeah?"

"Oh," I muttered in relief, willing to go with any explanation he could come up with. "Yeah."

With a soft smile, he reached up and pulled it down. "There you go," he said. He gestured for me to go up. I hesitated.

"Don't you want the bed?"

He grinned. "Nah, not really. I'm used to sleeping wherever. Besides, you're the girl. My mum didn't teach me manners for nothing. It's all yours."

I tried my best to return the grin. "Thank you." I headed up. "Good night," I said quickly, turning to him.

"Night," he responded and went towards the sofa. I waited for a minute until I heard him blow out the candle and the room was enveloped in darkness. With a soft sigh and a harsh scolding in my head, I continued up to the room.

The upstairs room was small, smaller than the downstairs, and the ceiling was so low that I couldn't stand straight. A low and sagging bed took up almost all of the floor space, the rest being taken by a short and cracked wardrobe. I pulled my robes and outer sweater over my head, shortly followed by my shoes, knee socks and skirt. As there were no pajamas to sleep in yet, I made do with my undershirt and underwear.

I crawled under the musty covers and buried my head in the slightly mildew-y smelling pillow. My nose crinkled with slight disgust and I swore that tomorrow would be devoted to cleaning the little house until it was habitable. I fell asleep peacefully, only to be met with dreams of Ron wearing dragon boxers and waking up with the most horrible feeling that I'd never be able to look either Weasley straight in the face again.

"Damn Voldemort," I muttered as I thought of the Weasley pair. "If it weren't for you I could have one of them." I quickly corrected myself. "Ron, Ron. If it weren't for you I could have Ron." With a tired smack to my forehead, I fell back into fitful slumber.


End file.
